


Confrontation scene

by koume



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24129853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koume/pseuds/koume
Summary: original drabble to get back into writing 2020





	Confrontation scene

**Author's Note:**

> this is original work of mine just to try and get back into the groove of writing. it is heavily, HEAVILY inspired by tatarigoroshi-hen from higurashi. this is not intended to be a serious replication of that, nor will it be continued, but merely inspiration for a short drabble. nothing more, nothing less.
> 
> feedback is heavily appreciated, the last time i wrote something was 2017. thank you!

My eyes gravitated towards the door, hidden by a tall filing cabinet. Although I suspected she was strong, this kind of strength was merely inhumane. Evidence of our fight trailed across the floor, chairs, tables, stationary… all strung along the floor. Feeling my arm twist even further, I quietly slurred something in between a cry for help and pain. The entire situation felt so surreal, like this was some kind of prank. Any second now, a studio light would turn on and from every corner people would come out to applaud my efforts to play along. With that, Catherine’s eyes would finally turn bright again, jovial and… human.  


  
Except, they didn’t. They maintained a cold, gritty stare. It was as if my counter attacks merely fuelled her anger, the scratches and busted lip didn’t phase her. Much rather, she let it happen and continue. Every few minutes, the blood from her lip would gather so much it had nothing else to do but fall. Hitting the cold vinyl floor with one more inconsequential drip. It meant nothing, failing to deter her efforts or ease the rage. All that sounded were those drips, and the faint, heavy breathing from our scrap. I made one last attempt to reach her.  


  
“Cassie, please-”  


  
She twisted my arm even further, eliciting a scream. “Don’t call me that, you fucking scumbag.”  


  
Her words sounded so calm, yet the harshness remained taunting in between the lines. The pain from her words caused a much deeper wound than the pain from my arm twisting. Any further and I could not be sure it was going to snap off entirely, like some kind of doll. I was so unsure of what I did, I just wanted to do the right thing. The urge to justify myself, speaking to a deranged priest in a confession box, rose up - but all I could do was keep my head still. Ever so often my eyes would keep flickering to and from the door. Where was the studio light? The laughter? The “we got you!” moment? Despite knowing it was not going to arrive, I kept praying. Begging for forgiveness to that priest.  


  
“Why did you do that? Why did you have to do that? Now Izzy’s gonna be taken away.”  


  
Isabelle. It had been a hot topic in our friendship group, but yet the first mention of it was so casual. There was a school, far away in all of our minds, so strict and rigid. Her distant mother had spoken with her father over the telephone to transfer her over. Perhaps this guy just didn't have any guts, as much as he seemed to dislike the idea, to refute it. Isabelle brushed it off like it was a rash decision that would soon be forgotten about. Although, after we all came back from our Christmas break, it seemed like the idea had grown more popular. Maybe it was because we all ran down to London without any kind of permission. It just didn’t make sense to me, we had fun, we all got back safe - why would anyone be so mad?  


  
It seemed we were the bad influences. Isabelle’s mother and step-father seemed more pushy about the idea, despite her protest. What was once a distant, unlikely probability now became a looming threat. Her father did nothing to protect her. Although, by Catherine’s words, it sounds like I didn’t do a good job either. I spoke to her father, got mad, and convinced him we were bad influences. All I wanted to do was protect my friend from an uncertain fate, we’d probably never see her again.  


  
“I just wanted to try, the opportunity was there…”  


  
“We made an agreement. We’d do it together, keep everyone in check. You know what adults are like, they don’t take shit from any kid.” This seemed to spur on more rage, blood falling and spitting outwards. “All talking on the house phones between themselves, like they know better than us. I knew what was good for Izzy! I knew what was good for her!” The volume became progressively louder, not that anyone would hear. “You fucked it up! Thinking we were all thick and stupid, you’re no better than those fuckin’ adults!” She twisted my arm further, and I really felt it ache, burn, shoot with pain. Any second now and it was going to snap clean off.  


  
I cried out in pain again. “I’ll fuckin’ break it in a second if you don’t stop giving me shit! Thought you were a man, Matthew. You’re an adult now, you can take the pain.”  


  
There was no ill will, I just couldn’t control my temper.


End file.
